


Natural History: A Supernatural story

by JeromeProton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Politics, Squirrel politics, Squirrels, alternate universe-castiel retrieval arc, ghost t-rex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeProton/pseuds/JeromeProton
Summary: When I was a small child, my mother told me stories about a pair of magical squirrels named Sally and Buster. My mother is a fan of the CW television show Supernatural. When I asked my mother what she wanted this Christmas, she asked that I make something for her.Enjoy.
Kudos: 1





	Natural History: A Supernatural story

Bones of an old predator, so old they have turned to stone. Displayed in a museum like ceramic trinkets. Children and parents alike gawk at a monster that died before the first human was even a twinkle in God’s eye. 

The most complete Tyrannosaur skeleton in the world, this Natural History Museum’s crown jewel, she is gawked at like some renaissance artwork by day. It is night now, and there are no children here, and no parents. She is alone with the museum’s other artifacts of prehistory. 

Almost alone, that is.

Three figures emerge from the shadows. There were no humans in the museum just a moment ago. Now there are. They carve sigils in the stone of her ribcage. They stand around her at equidistant points and chant. They make a fire of acorns beneath her and dance around it til they burst.

There is a park near the museum. It is not a particularly impressive park. If the city has anything to say about it, it will not be a park at all for much longer. There are a number of trucks of various description poised to begin clearing it away so that it may be replaced with condos.

In the morning, there are not any trucks poised to begin clearing it away so that it may be replaced with condos. There is the only what remains of them. 

————————————————————————————————————————

Sam and Dean Winchester wind down an interstate highway in their 1967 Chevy Impala, as they have so many times before. Something weighs on them, though. 

Sam is the first to give voice to it.  
“So, Cas, huh?”  
“What about him?” Dean responds.  
“You know what I mean.”  
“What’s there to say?”  
“Do you… feel the same way?  
“No- I mean- I don’t know. You can’t just spring something like that on someone.”  
“He did save you from Hell..”  
“Yeah, and when we figure out how to get to the Nothingness, I’m gonna return the favor. We’ll finish that conversation then.”  
“Alright.” Sam pulls out his laptop and begins researching supernatural mysteries in the local area. After a bit of time he lights up a bit in the way one does when one finds something that might cheer up someone close.  
“Hey, check this out,” he says “some construction vehicles that were about to begin some kind of rezoning were destroyed overnight.”  
“Could just be wackjobs.”  
“It says they looked mangled, almost like they were attacked by a wild animal. A really big wild animal.”  
“Ok, we talkin’ dragons here?”  
“Maybe, but on top of that… so right next to the sight there’s a Natural History Museum. It has the most complete T-Rex skeleton in the world. Same night as the trucks were destroyed the skeleton was…messed with.”  
“Wait so- ghost T-Rex?”  
“It’s a strong possibility.”  
“Is that even possible?”  
“I would say no, but we’ve seen weirder, so I guess we’ll just have to find out.”  
“Oh hell yeah!”

Dean pumps his fist and focuses back on the road. The road ahead is long, but he has a reason to keep going. 

————————————————————————————————

Sally and her brother Buster are not young squirrels. Not anymore. Buster has kids now, Hazel and her little brothers and sisters. Hazel has grown into an angry young squirrel and made equally angry friends. Buster cannot blame them. He wishes they did not have to live through this.  
He and Sally had tried their best to use the magic of the acorns to stop the development that threatened to consume their home, but to no avail. Even as humans their voices were drowned by the powerful, and all their tricks were for naught. It seemed that the park would be gone for good.  
Until that night, when the tools that would have leveled it were themselves destroyed. A ghostly roar, and in the morning the bite marks on the trucks spoke of the awakening of an old friend who the two had a decade past returned to sleep.  
But who could have awakened her?  
And why?  
She was clearly summoned in defense of the park, but no-one else has enough knowledge of this place’s magic to call her, and neither of them would resort to it.  
Ultimately they decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth and take this extra time to continue their protests and petitions and gathering of forces.  
That is, until a human winds up dead.

———————————————————————————————————————-

“So what happened to this guy?”  
Dean asks the coroner.  
Sam and Dean have assumed their habitual disguises as FBI agents, in this case special agents Rockefeller and Bullwinkle, to do some digging into the case. When the body of a city inspector showed up at the very same park they went to look into it.  
“Guy got torn clean in half. Couldn’t even find the other half o’ him for nearly an hour.” The coroner is a balding, middle aged man who, judging by his accent, is a rather recent immigrant from New York. “Betcha it’s those same nutcases who’re tryin’ to stop the construction. Can’t stop progress, but there’re some people who’ll do anything to get in the way.”  
“You mind if we take a look at the body?” Sam, or more officially “special agent Bullwinkle” asks.  
“Sure, knock yourselves out.” The coroner says “hope you don’t mind if I get myself a coffee while you do that. You see a lot of ugly stuff in my job, but this” he looks away squeamishly “is somethin’ else.”  
He leaves, and as he passes through the door mutters “fuckin’ hippies, man.”  
Sam and Dean unzip the bodybag and are greeted with as gruesome a sight as they could have expected. The man looks to have been a very neat, clean man before he died as messy a death as is possible on this green earth. His hair was brushed, though it looks to have been mussed in the confrontation, and his button-up looks to have been ironed very well before it was torn to bloody scraps.  
He is, as promised, messily bifurcated. There are marks along the division that could, if you were really to stretch your imagination, be from a saw, but which are much more clearly the work of very large serrated teeth.  
“Looks like it is the same nutcases after all” Dean mutters.  
“Want to hit the books, run some checks, see if the forensics match up?”  
“Nah, I know what a T-Rex’s teeth look like by heart, and this is exactly what they’d do to a person.”  
“Of course you do.”  
Dean looks up at Sam, a combination of childlike excitement and wistful nostalgia barely contained behind his habitual grit.”You know, when you were just a baby, before you could even talk, I was super into dinosaurs. Knew everything about them.” He smiles “Never thought I’d actually get to hunt one.”  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Sally is sitting in her tree, ruminating on the events of the past few days, when she hears a light rapping on the side of the hollow. A behavior learned from human observation, and too light and precise to be Buster.  
“Aunt Sally?” A voice chirrups in the tongue of squirrels.  
“Hazel?” Sally responds in that same chittering, chirping language “What is it, Sweetie?”  
“Would you still love me if I did something bad?”  
“I’d love you no matter what, acorn. Your parents would too.”Sally puts a comforting paw on Hazel’s shoulder. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”  
“This is” Hazel usually gives off a dangerous, angry aloofness, even among family. Now she just looks small and scared “a pretty big mistake.”  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Winchesters are looking through the park for clues. Usually there would be children, dogs, and joggers filling this place to the brim with excitement and joy and movement, but between the planned demolition and the gruesome death this place is empty of human life.  
Besides Sam and Dean that is.  
“Man, this place is a ghost town.” Dean says into the void. ”You’d think there’d at least be some kids out here trying to be cool.”  
“Yeah” Sam is scanning about “you would.”  
Sam spies a young man dressed in strangely formal blacks leaned with more nonchalance than could be expected of someone in his position against a tree. He is reading a book and fidgeting with an acorn.  
“I think I found our kid trying to be cool.”  
The two of them walk up to him. He is too enraptured in his reading to even acknowledge them.  
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” Dean says.  
“I rather think I am,” he says, not looking up from his book. “That’s the thing about being human,” he looks at the acorn in his hand and spins it purposefully “This world is made for you. You can go where you like. You can do what you like. You’ve had it carved in your image.”  
“FBI” Sam says “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”  
“I’m sure you would.” The young man says, staring at the acorn as it moves deftly between his fingers. “Could you give me a moment to finish my chapter, at least.”  
At this moment, Sam gets a glimpse at the cover of the book and recognizes it as a fairly powerful and dangerous necromantic tome.  
”No, I don’t think we can.”  
The young man’s acorn hand begins moving, but before he can complete the motion Dean has him pinned against the tree. The book is knocked from his hand.  
“Who are you?” Dean growls.  
“Hemlock. My name is Hemlock.” He chokes out.  
“How’d you raise the T-Rex?”  
“It’s all in the book.”  
Sam cuts in “I know that spell. I looked at the runes. You shouldn’t be able to raise anything that’s been dead that long.”  
Hemlock chuckles a hoarse, anime rival, chuckle “Alterations of my own design. It’s amazing where a couple ingredient substitutions will get you.”  
Sam looks through his bag, which he had left at his feet as he read.  
“Look, I can understand the forbidden spell books and magical components, but what’s with all the acorns?”Sam asks  
“Oh” Hemlock laughs nervously “I-I just like collecting them. They’re nothing special.”  
“Why’d you do it?“ Dean yells ”A guy’s dead because of you!”  
“Is it” Hemlock smiles defiantly up at Dean “such a crime to defend your home?”  
Sam registers that as odd before Dean does.  
”Wait.”he says “Your home?”  
Just then another voice cuts in  
“Oh dear.” Says a middle aged woman with a kind, teacherly face, dressed in warm browns. Next to her is a teen girl. “Please put him down, I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”  
“Misunderstanding?” Dean says incredulously “this kid gave us a full goddamn supervillain monologue.”  
“Yeah, Hemlock’s a dramatic bitch.” The young lady beside her says. She looks like the physical manifestation of disaffected teen angst, with nut-brown hair dyed black at the tips.  
“Where did you learn that kind of language, young lady?” The woman asks.  
A forth figure appears behind Dean. “Hey Elder Sally.” They are taller than Dean, with brightly dyed hair and a knife to his throat. “‘Sup?”  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________

“My apologies” Sally says “We should probably introduce ourselves”  
The man in the flannel shirt has put down Hemlock, and Hawthorne has removed their knife (where did they even get that thing?) from his throat.  
“I am Sally…” She grasps for a suitable last name “ Park. And this is my niece, Hazel Park.” Hazel waves half-heartedly. “The rest of these folks are Hazel’s friends, I believe they can introduce themselves.”  
Hemlock is still getting up and dusting off his shirt. He breathes out shakily “Hemlock Wine, master occultist. The most well-read of our little band.”  
Hawthorne’s still got their knife out, despite Sally’s pleas to the contrary (“Make negotiations go smoother” they said) “‘m Hawthorne. I get places I’m not supposed to. Sneaky shit y’know?”  
“And I call the shots” Hazel says, with something a lot closer to her usual cold confidence.

“And what about you two?” Sally asks.  
“I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean.” Sam says.”We hunt things.”  
“What kind of things?” Hazel asks suspiciously. Hawthorne readies their knife. Hemlock reaches into his bag. Sally begins looking very concerned.  
“Dangerous things.” Dean says “Things like the oversized chicken the Junior Goth Club managed to, against all odds, wake up from ten million years of resting in peace.”  
“Speaking of the Tyrannosaur” Hazel says “before these two showed up, I was bringing Aunt Sally up to date on the situation. I think we need to have a serious chat about it.  
“Really, Hazel.” Hemlock says “You were the last one I would have expected to get cold feet on this. It was your idea, remember?”  
“That was before someone died.”  
“And more would die if he got his way. No war is without casualties. Were you really hoping that an apex predator would stop at destruction of property? How uncharacteristically naive.”  
“He was one of Sally’s guys. He was trying to save the park.”  
This finally makes Hemlock pause. There are ten heavy seconds of silence before he simply says “…Oh.”  
“Why do you guys care so much about a park, anyway?” Sam asks.  
“I guess you could say” Hemlock says “we have a rather” he pops an acorn in his mouth “personal connection to this park”  
As soon as he finishes speaking, a small grey squirrel stands in his place.  
“Oh my god.” Dean says with barely contained childlike glee “A ghost T-Rex AND talking squirrels? Is it Christmas?”  
Hazel shoots him an unimpressed gaze “We can only talk when we’re human, don’t be ridiculous.”  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

They have all, squirrels and Hunters alike, convened around a picnic table in the middle of an open field. Sam and Dean are sitting next to each other. Hazel is sitting between her aunt and Hawthorne, who still has their knife out and is spinning it against the table. At this point it seems like they just kind of like it.  
“So if we’re all on the same page” Dean says “Anyone know how to stop this thing?”  
He is looking pointedly at Hemlock, who has resumed human form.  
“I had envisaged her as something of an indefinite guardian.” He says “I had not quite worked out how to return her to rest.”  
“Pretty careless for a master occultist.” Sam says.  
“Well” Hemlock says “hindsight is 20/20.”  
“You two” Hazel says, looking at Sam and Dean “said you hunt things like this. Any tricks that might help in our current situation?”  
“The main way we deal with ghosts is burn whatever’s left of their bodies.” Dean says “Unless anyone’s got an active volcano handy, I don’t think that’s gonna be much help here.”  
“Me and my brother Buster managed to return her to rest when we were kids. Maybe we could do it again.” Sally says.  
“Especially considering we asked for her services in your name” Hemlock says.  
“She wasn’t angry then.” Hazel says. “You might not get the chance to talk.”  
“We’ve got some chains handy that can hold ghosts.” Sam says “They might not be able to keep something that big down very long, but they might manage to keep it down long enough for you to talk to it.”  
“Alright” Sally says “It sounds like we’ve got a plan. All we need to do is wait ’til nightfall.”  
_________________________________________________________________

It is nightfall. Sally has brought Buster on board with the situation. He is not as upset as Hazel had feared he would be, particularly when he learns how quickly she had decided that the situation needed to be rectified after the first casualty.  
Everyone is in position. As the Tyrannosaurus’ first roar shatters the night, Dean grins despite himself. It is everything he had imagined and more.  
He barely even minds his role as bait, if it means he gets to get up close and personal with such a magnificent beast.  
He is standing out in the open, in the middle of the park.  
The phantom monster, recognizing him as an outsider to the park, Barrels at him with a piercing shriek.  
“Come here ugly,” he says “let’s tango.”  
He has an enchanted knife in his hand, just in case the others can’t get things together in time.  
It is moving towards him at a very great speed. It is almost on him now. He can see every single serrated, foot-long tooth in it’s mouth. He swears he can smell it’s breath, the smells of long-dried swamps and antediluvian carrion. As he raises the knife, a knife not even half as long as most of its teeth, some small part of him thinks that this would be a good death indeed.  
He imagines the tombstone: “Dean Winchester. Eaten by a ghost T-Rex.” What a way to go.  
But he can’t die just yet. People still need him.  
Cas still needs him.  
As if on cue, three small figures emerge from the trees, becoming, mid-fall, much less small figures. Much less small figures with rune-inscribed chains. They haphazardly bind the creature they awoke so jarringly, and it falls like an angry tree. It is still struggling. Hopefully the chains will hold long enough.  
Two squirrels skitter up from behind Dean. He cannot understand what they are saying, in their language of chittering chirps, but we can.  
____________________________________________________________________

Sally puts a tiny paw on the Tyrannosaur’s snout.  
She quiets, recognizing the touch of an old friend.  
“This isn’t you.”Sally says.  
“You’re lost and angry. You were awoken against your will. You’re trapped in a world that isn’t your own, fighting a fight you have nothing to do with. But all that can stop. You can rest now.”  
Buster adds in “You’ve done your duty. You can go back to sleep now. Why don’t I sing you a lullaby?”  
And he does, a wordless little tune he sang to Hazel, when she was small.  
The Tyrannosaur stills, and begins to flicker and fade from this world, as she remembers and returns to whatever happy hunting ground awaits good Tyrannosaurs when they die. And then she takes in a sniff, and she remembers her mission, and remembers the interloper in the park she was tasked to defend.  
She screeches, and shakes off her chains.  
_________________________________________________________________

“Oh shit.” Dean says, and begins making a strategic tactical retreat with enough speed to outpace a full-grown Tyrannosaurus Rex, at least until he gets to the street, where Sam is already waiting in the Impala.  
They spend the rest of the night in a car chase with a ghost T-Rex.  
This is as stressful in practice as it is awesome in theory.  
They do not get any sleep that night, but that is hardly a first.  
_______________________________________________________________

The following morning they get themselves a breakfast of eggs and sausage at a local diner. They each get a black coffee. They are very disheveled after last night’s escapade, but after a couple coffees and a shower in the hotel they are staying at, they look as clean-cut as they ever do.  
They talk over the situation a bit as they drive to the park to regroup with their newfound allies, mostly fixating on the sheer ridiculousness of it. It is not the strangest thing they have been through, but it seems a strong contender.  
__________________________________________________________________________

They gather with the others later that morning at the park to discuss the situation.  
“So, we can’t burn it, we can’t” Dean sighs like he can’t believe what he’s about to say “sing it to sleep. What can we do?”  
There is a pause, some people fidget.  
Finally Hemlock says “There is always the fact that a ghost can be played to rest by completing its unfinished business. I doubt that’s within anyone here’s capabilities though.”  
Sam says “So, just so we’re clear, you gave it the specific mission of keeping the park from being demolished?”  
“Yes. Not exactly the kind of problem I think you and your brother are accustomed to dealing with. No offense, but I doubt even the most prodigious demon-slaying record would have any effect on the folks down at city hall.”  
“I don’t know, me and Dean have friends in pretty high places,” Sam says. Dean chuckles under his breath. The rest of the table looks slightly confused. “And we can be very persuasive.”  
Hawthorne stills their knife for a second, and looks like they’ve been let in on a private joke. “Fuckin’ go for it, man.”  
The rest of the table looks even more nervous until they say “anyone got any better ideas?”  
There is a tense pause, broken by Hazel “Sure.”  
“I suppose any help would, at this point, be appreciated” Hemlock says with a slight, rueful smile.  
“You’ve got my blessing” Sally says.  
“Mine too” says Buster.  
_______________________________________________________________________________

Later that day, the mayor announces that the council no longer plans to demolish the park. This is a surprisingly quick turnaround, especially in politics. When questioned on it, the mayor says something about “the good of the people” and “standing up for the little guy”. The reporters have no idea how true that last part is.  
_____________________________________________________________________

There is a great deal of festivity upon this announcement, both among the squirrels and those who call the park their home on a more temporary or metaphorical level. There is a potluck and a barbecue. There are fireworks. There is alcohol, which the members of Hazel’s little gang are partaking of, with varying degrees of stealth. Normally Sally, Buster and the rest of their parents would not condone this, but if there was ever a time it would be now.  
Sally walks up to the Winchester boys, who are both enjoying well chilled beers and plates of ribs, and solemnly hands them a large handful of acorns.  
“Thanks,” Sam says “but I don’t know how useful these’ll be to us. I don’t really know how useful turning into a squirrel will be.”  
Hemlock chimes in “Their transmutative properties are just the tip of the iceberg. Those things have a really tremendous amount of magical energy stored in them. You know how I mentioned an ingredient substitution in the resurrection?”  
Sam and Dean look somewhat incredulous.  
“Believe what you want, but these acorns are incredibly potent.”Hemlock says, shrugging. “Hawthorne got a look in your car and it looks like you’re researching a quite impressive spell. A door to the emptiness on the other side of reality. Those acorns just might help you make your key.”  
“Wait,” Dean says “they’ve got that much juice and you’re just giving them away?”  
“You did save our home” Sally says “How did you manage that by the way?”  
“Like I said” Sam says “we can be very persuasive”  
________________________________________________________________________

Earlier that day, Sam and Dean arrive at city hall in the Impala. It is just about noon, and a quite beautiful day.  
The brothers step through the large wooden doors of the building and are greeted sunnily by a receptionist. Her hair is tied neatly in a bun behind her head. She is wearing teal.  
“Hi” Sam says “special agents Rockefeller and Bullwinkle, FBI. We’d like to talk to the director of the parks department about the recent terrorist incidents.”  
“Alright.” She says with the same customer-service smile “I’ll pencil you in for later today.”  
“Please ma’am.” Sam says, with quite a bit of gravity“It’s urgent.”  
“Oh, well in that case” she looks a tad flushed, and adjusts her glasses “his office is down that hall.”  
“Thank you ma’am” Sam says, as he and Dean walk down the hall gestured to “you’re doing a service for your country.”  
“Say,” the receptionist calls after them “haven’t I seen the two of you before somewhere?”  
Sam gives a smile of his own. “We’ve been on T.V.”  
_______________________________________________________________________

The park director is doing crucial paperwork in his office. The interest groups and real estate developers who had arranged for the park’s demolition are getting antsy. A brutal murder isn’t all that good for property value, but the situation can still be salvaged.  
The park director is caught between a rock and a hard place.  
The demolition was never that popular to begin with, and protests and petitions popped up quite a bit quicker than is usual for this kind of thing.  
The rather unusual complications in the process have hardly helped matters.  
On the other hand there are also people very invested in this land. People willing to give the city quite a lot of money.  
Honestly, with the way some of these guys talk about it, you’d think there was a gold mine under there or something.  
He is shaken from his reverie, not by the first firm knock on his door, nor the second or third, but by its finally being opened by an impatient Dean Winchester.  
“Who is it?” He asks, still focused primarily on the papers in front of him.”Why are you in here?”  
“Me and my brother have some very important things to talk to you about” Dean says, in a tone that makes him look up “things about a park.”  
“Oh my god” He says, looking incredibly shaken “You’re the guys who tried to kill the president.” He’s trying to back away from them, but he’s already behind his desk against the wall. “I thought you died.”  
“Oh, we did” Dean says, closing in on the shaking bureaucrat “It didn’t stick. Side perks for doing the Lord’s work, I guess.”  
“You’re insane!”  
“Maybe we are, but you’re going to do what we tell you to”  
“And-and why would I do that?”  
“Because you’re not.” Dean has a knife to the man’s throat now. “And I don’t think you’ll get better after dying. I’d also be willing to wager you ain’t going anywhere nice.”  
“Ok, ok, I’ll call off construction, I’ll call off construction.”  
“See, now that’s what I call cooperation. We didn’t even have to ask.” Dean smiles and releases him.  
He is on the floor hyperventilating now.  
“One more thing.”  
The park director looks up.  
“We’re gonna be keeping an eye on you, so unless you want to end up like Greg the Accountant, I wouldn’t tell anyone what happened here.”  
The park director meekly nods, and begins filling out the forms to cancel the demolition faster than he has ever filled out forms before.  
______________________________________________________________________________________

If the park director was not preoccupied with Dean, he would have noticed Sam looking increasingly confused in the corner.  
After they have left and are on their way back to their hotel, he voices his concerns.  
“What the hell was that?”  
“I took a couple improv classes back in 2004. Yes and.”  
“You really think he’s not going to tell anyone?”  
“Who cares? No one’s gonna believe a story about undead terrorists, they’ll think he was seeing things from stress.”  
“Yeah” Sam says “Hopefully”  
“Now all we gotta do is stick around the park and hope Barney doesn’t pop back up anyways.”  
_____________________________________________________________________________________

She does not. The Tyrannosaur somehow understands that its mission is complete now, and the party continues uninterrupted. She sleeps, and dreams of an endless hunt, and her bones are still.  
____________________________________________________________________________________

Sam and Dean Winchester wind down an interstate highway in their 1967 Chevy Impala, as they have so many times before. The road ahead is long, but they have a reason to keep going.


End file.
